Chapter 1: Everything Burns
For years, mankind has always looked up at the stars. Their wonder, their splendor, their mystery. As science granted humanity a chance to tentatively explore that great beyond, sometimes... the great beyond sent things back. Hurdling toward the planet, a crystalline meteor descended, the atmosphere burning it and reducing much of it to sand. Descending further, the small orb fought the burning air of the atmosphere surrounding it in order to reach its destination and collide with the hard mother Earth. It crashed, scraped against, and skidded across a desert, lifting dirt from the ground as it did so and chipping the fine protective clear ice surrounding the metal core inside. Nearby, a frightened cattle rancher retrieved his shotgun and prayed to God Almighty there wasn't some dangerous life-form or bomb inside. He was partially right. As if on command, the surrounding crystal melted into water around the pod, which proceeded to slowly open, releasing pressurized oxygen with a hiss as it revealed a lithe, brown-haired humanoid inside. His skin smooth and peach-coloured, his hair short and soft. He wore a green tunic with golden patterns and designs around it. The only thing off about him was his Elf-like, long, pointed ears. As the door raised, the Elf slowly awakened and looked groggy, stretching from a long time spent in Cryo-sleep. The rancher couldn't believe his tired eyes. His heart raced and his palms, gripping the barrel of his firearm, sweated heavily, and not just from Texas' heat. The Elf smiled at the rancher innocently, leaning down to remove his sandal-like footwear and step his bare feet onto the ground of this new world. He was shocked and pained to find that the sun had made the rough Texan earth toastier than a fried scorpion. Putting his footwear back on and tentatively stepping foot back out of his pod, he stood examining his surroundings before addressing the rancher in some alien tongue "Myth-kael mana des ma, ga?" The rancher stared oddly at him, unsure if this was just some prank or a foreigner getting washed up on his land... or if humanity, truly, was not alone. Recap 11 years has passed since the first contact began between humanity and the Elven ambassador, Earendur. Within that 11 years, humanity has spear-headed a new age of science known as the "Scientific Revolution". More of the oceans and Earth's resources were discovered and put to use. Mankind has begun using mechanical replacements and machines to keep themselves alive for longer, improve their physical capabilities, or simply to look more beautiful. Robotics has excelled to the point that humanity has been able to replicate its own image in the form of "Simdroids", androids with simulated programs such as emotions and extremely detailed, artificial intelligence kept in check by barriers and firewalls. Along with the fair and mysterious "Elvaan", humanity has come into contact with different alien species ranging from different, neighboring galaxies. But it was a recent discovery in the last 3 years that truly changed the shape of humanity's understanding and raised many new questions, for that was the year, in 2022, that humanity came in contact with what they dubbed as "Daemons". Humanoid in base shape, but horrific and monstrous, these creatures came from "Hellgates" positioned in several countries to invade and conquer the human race. Ultimately, they failed thanks to the humanity's response program to their threat: The "Hell-Hunters", a specialized division of the new United Human Alliance's military trained to deal with Daemonic threats. Thus far, what humanity knows for certain is that the Daemons entered the world from another dimension as none of the main galactic community know of any planetary teleportation technology. Unknowing of how many Daemons exist or how advanced they are, humanity prepares itself for any threat posed by its galactic neighbors or its dimensional ones. The year is 2025, and Arra Sans is late for her Field Training. Field Day Arra could feel her muscles tighten as she sprinted, a piece of bagel with cream cheese smothered on it in her mouth as she struggled to rush out the door with her camo-coloured backpack, its nick-nacks and clip-on flair dangling from it and making clickity-clack noises as they smacked each other. "Stupid alarm... Stupid lack of hot water... Stupid tight uniform..." She hated the restrictive body-cuff of a uniform she needed to wear as an Academy student. She preferred her cargo shorts and loose-fitting tanktops to such style-less blue suits. The berets were nice though. She felt so French when she wore hers, though she much preferred Spain's language over France's berets. Checking her "Cock-Watch", a Chicken-themed wrist watch she adored but was teased about by her friends, she noticed she was already five whole minutes late. FIVE WHOLE MINUTES!? She put her legs from "high-tail" into "burn-ass" speeds as she felt like the Road-Runner from the Warner Brothers cartoons, speeding down the dreary sidewalk as dark rainclouds loomed high overhead. She took hold of her bagel and, maw gaping wide with her razor-sharp-lady-fangs, she mauled the hapless breakfast with a hungry and rushed zeal akin to that of a starved piranha. Mr. Gabe, Arra's Academy teacher, was already well into his lecture about the importance of Human-Xeno relations when the dark-skinned latecomer found skidding to a halt difficult and nearly broke the mahogany doors leading to the class room. The loud bang emitted from the doors as she collided into them gave evidence that Arra was, yet again, late. She rubbed her forward sorely and entered, taking a nearby seat with a cheery and embarrassed smile as some awkward stares, glares, and chuckles were her only greeting. Mr. Gabe coughed into his clenched hand and continued "Glad you could join us, Cadet Sans. Since you're so eager to be here, why don't you tell us what should be done if a xeno-biological lifeform were to become aggressive?" Arra really wished Mr. Gabe hadn't called her out on it. She was sure, knowing him, she could get the answer right and still be corrected about some slight mis-interpration or wording. "Err... Ask it what's wrong?" Mr. Gabe gave her a focused stare that seemed to summon every ounce of disappointment on Earth and collect it into a subtle sigh "No, Ms. Sans." Arra mentally shrugged it off "Could've been worse." Gabe, before turning back to the chalkboard, added "Please see me after class." "Fuck." ----- The wind was warm and thunder could be heard rolling overhead, starting low and growing in volume like the roar of lion hovering above the gathered cadets outside in the training grounds, all of their blue uniforms forming a small pond of azure with a black dot at its head. This black dot was the Overseer, an elite military official appointed regional trainer of cadets, forming them from scholarly students into hardened recruits, tempered only for the grueling training sessions in facilities like "Camp Zion" or the orbital space station "ICARUS". All of the cadets stood with their posture straightened before the bald-headed Overseer, once a Commander of a Forward Recon squad. His voice was loud and rivaled the sky in its fury "Alright! Listen up, cadets! Today is a special day in Field Training, for you will be showing off your skill to the Elvaan Ambassador, Earendur Surion, himself! Accompanying him is our Academy Director!" He pointed up to a nearby wooden tower overlooking the nearby forest and the Academy as well as the town itself. With a tarp cover atop it, the two spectators could enjoy the view without being disturbed by the rain. The Overseer continued "Today's training is a Woodland Run; each of you will run along the cleared path through the forest, evading various oncoming obstacles. The Run is complete when you reach the end of the forest. The first cadet to reach the Finish Line receives bonus points to their score. Assess every obstacle carefully..." His glare turned to Arra specifically in the crowd "...and don't lose sight of your objective." Arra scrunched her mouth with a huff "What a dick..." Stepping out of the way of the cadets so they may take their places along the many individual paths throughout the forest. The Overseer raised his strong, aged hand into the air and, after a moment of anticipation, lowered it hard with a chopping-gesture. The race was on! High overhead, Earendur filled a paper cup with some tea and ice, though upon sipping it found the sugar-less beverage bland and disgusting. Thankfully, there were many convenient packets of sugar nearby to fill the bottom of the cup with. He did so while watching the cadets enter the race. Because of the forest-track, the Ambassador and the Academy Director, Mr. Paul Roberts, were visually unable to view the progress of the race. Thankfully, they were provided with hand-held receivers showing the cameras feed of the race in the woods from multiple cameras, each one tracking each cadets' progress as they made their way on the track. Mr. Roberts smiled proudly, almost boastfully "Yes, we've got a good bunch here. Many of them have bright futures in our Colonial Marine Corps." Earendur sipped his now-flavoured drink while pointing to a man struggling to catch his breath after jumping over a log "That one seems to be in need of a Medic." Roberts looked over and sighed in frustration "That one is Matthew Woods, one of the brighter stars here at the Academy. Unfortunately, despite the fact that he, miraculously, passes each and every one of our drug screenings, he heavily indulges in marijuana smoking and alcoholism, leaving his physical health severely lacking. He's a genius, however. His grades are phenomenal; top of the class, but he hardly ever shows up to the Academy unless his grades depend on it and when he does, he usually sleeps through lectures." "He's the complete opposite of this one, however..." he pointed toward the camera feed of one Arra J. Sans. Earendur noticed how she had narrowly avoided a vine-triggered booby trap and was outrunning some of the cadets "She's quick on her feet." Roberts nodded affirmatively "That she is. Strong, too. But she's got the brain of a bird, leaving her one of our fittest cadets but one whose grades are constantly at the tipping point. She struggles with keeping focus and is distracted by almost nothing." As he says this, Arra notices a lovely red bird flutter past her, peeping a soft tune. Smiling at it, she collided hard with the thick bark of an oncoming tree. Earendur and Roberts both gave an "Ooohh..." look as she dazedly steps around it like an intoxicated person, muttering "I'm okay..." to anyone who'd hear. ----- Matt felt like he was going to shit his lungs out. His kidneys, too! He heaved with wide eyes, sweat pouring off him like a hog in dry season. "Fuck, this sucks! Why couldn't we just play Chess or some bullshit for Field Day?! Don't worry, Matt. It's just a couple hours away. That shit'll leave your system by the time you get t- Fuck you, Terry, you sadistic asshole!" He leaned against a nearby tree in order to catch a breath, knowing he won't be able to get to the Finish Line first. But he needed that Bonus. It would land him a free three days off of Academy work. Three whole days... He could finally beat that part of Fallout he was stuck on! If he had that kind of time, that is. Resolving himself, he stood up and began his running pace once more, which equaled out to a simple jog. Arra, on the other hand, could no longer feel her face and she was pretty sure she lost her beret. "Stupid forest. Stupid Field Training. Stupid O-" Before she could finish, however, she nearly fell prey to a loose tree root along the path, which would've tripped her up for sure. Jumping over it with the skill of a Jedi, she chuckled "Try to pull a fast one, eh?" Upon saying this, she slipped on a slick puddle of mud, landing hard on her back. Moaning in pain, she wheezed out in Spanish "Mercy Kill me, please..." ----- Crossing the Finish Line felt more like torture victims being released back into society for the first time in years. Matt fell to his knees "Thank God... no more trees... no more tears..." Arra, albeit limping, held more dignity, though collapsed after she reached the other moaning cadets. Some spoke to each other of traps that shot rocks at them, others of roots tied back and swung hard forward if a tripwire was crossed. The Overseer, in his sadism, chuckled "Hope you had a good show, ladies! This is nothing compared to Camp Zion! The winner of the Run today is Zachary Shermal. Report back to the Academy. I'll see all of your happy faces again next week!" With that, they all trudged back to the Academy for one last lecture before heading home in the fitting rain. While Earendur was spoken to by Roberts of everyone in the group, the two contrasting students really stood out to him. Maybe it was how so eloquently that Roberts showed his disdain for their characters, or maybe it was his comment that "if they were to fuse together, they'd form either the best soldier or the worst", but Earendur took an interest in them. Their motivations, their characters. But he had more on his mind than just the Humans and their training sessions. He had problems of his own. The Gathering "Hopeless nights may taste despair, floating through the putrid air. Envy and Lust can fuel desire, before leaving one drowning in fire. If Pride is what it takes to win, I'll give you all the Tools of Sin." Hell, like any alternate dimension, is wide and expansive, with many different worlds, or "realms", existing above, below, and beside one another. Some Hells are hot, with rocks so sharp they can slice through a man's foot straight through their shoe and flames so hot they burn bone to ash in an instant. Other Hells are cold, where an unwary creature might find itself buried in a grave of snow or stabbed by a falling shard of ice. Some Hells are bright, where all one can see is the blinding light around them, burning their vision even when their eyes are closed. And other Hells... are dark. Where no one can see, hear, or smell... only feel. One such a "Dark Hell" belonged to particularly economical Daemon... No, Devil. For she was a member of this dimension's authority, ruling her own Realm and devouring any who dared enter without her permission. This Devil's name, as given by mortals long ago, as she remembers it was... Fukienziru. Even now, she couldn't quite remember what it meant. All she knew was that it was a more fitting identity than that of what she once was. Peering into her bubble showing her the World of Man, she grinned and gave a dark purr of a chuckle "So many lives, frantically out pursuing their own dreams and goals... So many raging storms and shifting seas... So many corruptible souls." Her hair matched her world; pitch black, with her skin pale as death and her eyes a vibrant red. Her teeth were like knives and her words like venom, burning into the cores of any who listened. She wore what seemed to be a dark dress, tinted red at the top where it ended at her chest leaving her shoulders and arms exposed completely, but her lower half seemed connected to her dark realm, a liquid blackness that stretched and slithered like a serpent. She coiled around her bubble, viewing the three individuals; Earendur Surion, Arra Sans, and Matt Woods, all with poisonous interest. She caressed the liquid mirror adoringly "Earendur Surion: A Chameleon, blending in to whatever culture he is sent to so as to study them, and a hopeless romantic, having fallen shamelessly in lust with this precious humanity he so desperately wants to be with! Arra, sweet little Arra, your poor mummy and daddy out of your life at a young age, leaving you, the pitiful orphan, to fend for yourself and seek answers in this cold, cruel world... And Matt Woods, a lazy prodigy desiring to change and live up to the family name! But you three are only pieces to something... something warm and bright... something worth more than all the sea of stars!" She turned, addressing another shadow that seemed to force itself free of a choking embrace "Cheshire, my dear sweet kitty kitty... Could you go down and, well... introduce our little friends to each other? The Hell-Hunters and the people I mentioned, as well as the Brute, the Killer, and the Thief." The black cat nodded fearfully and obediently, running forth and diving into the bubble to enter into the realm to carry out her mistress' task. Fukienziru, pleased with the progress, turned to a shadowy mass nearby "Make the call. Let the Gathering... begin." ----- The cantina on the Nerullean moon was as ablaze with drunken laughter and smooth, jazz-like Irrun music with a Wajeelian band playing. Wajeelians were human-like in appearance but had traits of other beasts such as felines, as was the case with this band. The dim lights illuminated some tables but kept others shrouded in darkness, allowing preference for... unsavory types to keep hidden from the law but also making it hard on waitresses to find customers unless called upon. Or if the waitress in question had vision that allowed them to see in the dark. In one dark corner, a Smuggler sipped her alcoholic brew slowly, enjoying its sweet taste and milk-like texture. Being a Catharsian, a fully-anthropomorphic humanoid cat, she enjoyed a spot of milk or two before or after jobs. Neif, herself, enjoyed the spicier brand that had a bit of kick behind it. She looked over at the entrance and, right on schedule, a troop of Nerullean guards came in, clad in their padded Madrasuits and wielding Shock-Coils and such. Apprehension gear, nothing Neif wasn't used to at this point. They looked around before their Madra-visors allowed them to spot her in her little corner. Guess tech has gotten better to counter such subtle criminal tactics. They marched up to her, the Captain holding up a datapad with a picture of Neif on it, her fur a golden yellow and her eyes a bright green. She was missing her species' long whiskers due to a painful incident involving fire from a blaster shot which took her almost a year to physically recover from due to nerve damage. "Have you seen this Catharsian, citizen?" Neif sipped once more casually "Hmmm... Catharsian, eh? Does she have a long tail, like this one?" Her feline tail raised up for them to see and shook about. The Captain nodded affirmingly and she continued "And sharp claws like these ones?" She retracted her feline claws, short for a Catharsian's due to not living on her forest world and needing to use them regularly. She kept them filed down due to otherwise getting in the way when she needed to grab things. The Captain nodded once more "Indeed." Two of his soldiers looked at each other, knowing their Captain was dense but unsure if he was going to legitimately fall for this. She continued once more "And small kitty ears, like these ones?" She took her wide, brown brim hat that concealed her face off and made her feline ears rotate a bit. The Captain nodded once more "Yes, ma'am. Have you seen her?" She put her hat back on and went back to drinking "Can't say I have." The Captain turned to investigate the tavern more, but without taking three steps, realized his obvious error and wheeled around in time to see the Smuggler jump from the seat, running along the nearby bar counter and dive toward the exit in the span of seconds with agile practice, turning only to flip a Nerulean coin at the waitress that served her "Thanks for the drink." With that bit of classy display, she was off. Making her way throughout the tiled streets of Yibbet city, Neif quickly lost her pursuers by navigating various alleyways and escaping into anonymity in crowds. Sneaking her way past the docking bay checkpoint where she would've been spotted and apprehended by security, she entered the hangar where, of course, her ship was grounded. Used to ship-ground software by now, she retrieved a small remote that acted as a controlled EMP, specific for the grounding softwares and shields keeping the ship docked. Entering, she sat in her leather captain's chair, her snug throne, and flipped some switches and turned down some levers to bring her ship to humming life. The Silver Talon was a very prestigious name for a pretty odd site of a ship; a Frachta-class Loader ship designed with the original intent of hauling heavy loads and carrying significant amounts of cargo around with minimal space, Neif "commandeered" the vessel and used her early spoils, along with some "loans" from a wealthy crime lord, in order to modify it. Except when time came to pay, Neif had already lost her money through gambling and, thus, had only her tricked-out ship and street smarts to keep her stable. With a price on her head equal to that of her debt, Neif must acquire enough Galactic Credits, or valuable objects, to appease her crime lord, Boss Nara. Raising in the sky, the turbolaser cannons quickly swiveled to take aim for the ship, hoping to power down her engines so she couldn't escape. Unfortunately for them, Neif had already infiltrated the city's defense network and temporarily shut down the cannons, the computer screens cutting to a dancing banana and playing "Peanut Butter Jelly Time" over the audio feeds, much to the dismay and confusion of the engineers. With this window granted, Neif powered up her Lazarus Generator and shot out into space, leaving only small snow-like crystalline, blue flakes from her generator, vented out of the ship's exhaust ports. She was, once again, free as a bird. She opened the Galactic HoloTerminal to find a destination that suited her needs when an anonymous message was received, reading that a job was available. Scrolling through it, Neif smiled brightly as it was a standard Smuggler's "grab-and-drop" job with a big payout due to the people providing it being the wealthy commercial insectoid race, the Haktu. The mission itself; go to the Haktu homeworld of Marash Ke'ral, pick up a big piece of cargo, and fly it on over to their mining facility on Korsis V. Piece of jiti. Setting course for Marash Ke'ral, she let "Jungle Boogie" play for her enjoyment as she entered Starspeed. ----- Matt let his limp, sore body rest on his couch as he watched Friday night cartoons, drowning away his frustration that Arra scored higher than him in Field Training. A dim-witted skank like her didn't deserve a tactical command of her own, unless the military cared more about funding stupid College students than protecting its own. Matt just had to suffer through it. His father and grandfather both served as Commanders in their prime, and so would he. It was the least he could do to atone for being a bum who smoked and drank his money away. No, he would be better than that. As soon as he graduates from the Academy, he's kicking his bad habits for good. He looked lazily over at his half-empty bottle of St. Paulie Girl's, remarking "Paulie... You're the only lady I need in my life." A female voice replied "I certainly don't need your washed-up ass." Matt blinked a couple of times. He was sure, by now, that shit Terry gave him had to have worn off. He hasn't smoked anything that day and only downed a half a bottle. "Uhhh... Excuse... me?" He was getting ready to use his nearby pillow to smash the Daemonic-possessed bottle on the ground, not wanting to touch it now. "Oh God... Did I drink some of it?! Is it inside me now?!" The female voice spoke again with a cough "Over here, Einstein." He looked over, finally tracing the point of the sound to a nearby open window with a black cat standing on it, its tail swaying casually as it gently stepped onto a nearby table "Jesus... I was told you were a slob, but there's a new invention called a vacuum, have you heard of it?" Matt's eyes widened immensely, his jaw falling open and a weak scream emitting from his throat. As he found the breath to, he started to heave to let out a more enhanced one as the feline raised her front paws in protest "Don't freakout!" His mouth gaping wide in pre-scream mode, he simply stared at her and moved his pillow up to cover most of his body apart from his head "Whose freaking out? I'm not freaking out. Just seeing a talking cat in my living room is new is all, how long have you been doing this talking thing exactly?" His words were quick as he rocked back and forth, studying the seemingly normal creature with nervous interest. She gave him an annoyed look "Listen, I know you and that Arri girl wanna join the military and all that good jazz, but lemme tell ya', the whole deal is bullshit." Matt gave her a perplexed look "What? How do you- Who are you anyway? What are you? How do you know me?" The cat explained "The name's Cheshire, Chesh to my friends - if I had any - and I am, don't freakout, a Daemon." Before Matt could say anything further, she cut him off again "...A good one! Don't worry, not after your soul or flesh or anything, just looking to turn a profit where I can and simply live here. Beats the Hell-hole I came from. Anyway, I know about you because interested parties are wanting to look out for you and Arri's well-being." Matt questioned with suspicion "Who are... these interested parties?" Cheshire shook her head "You'll know eventually. For now, just know that a Hell-Hunter is gonna be entering town soon to meet with Arri. You should join 'em. It's important." He grimaced "Why should I?" Cheshire was about to leave when he said this but slowly turned back to face him "...Because if you don't, you might die. Sound important now? The Hell-Hunter's a big guy in a long, red coat. White hair, blue eyes, just like the rest of 'em. We'll be expecting you. Alleyway next to Tucker's Tavern, in 3 hours. See ya' there." At this, the cat leapt out of the window, leaving a confused and tired Matt to dwell on what had just transpired. "What... the fuck?" ----- Arra stepped into the warm shower, her long, raven-coloured hair running down her bruised back as she moaned in a mixture of agony and relaxation from the shower. The water stung as it rained on her scrapes and cuts. War-wounds, she liked to picture them as. Her bright, blue eyes stared up the ceiling as she allowed her mind to go numb along with her body. Time seemed to pass like wind, and she found herself waking up, sitting in the center of her bathtub with the water pouring on her head and back. Deciding a half an hour was enough time for a shower, barely, she turned the water off and stepped out, wrapping a towel around her shoulders after drying her hair. She stepped out of the bathroom after drying herself off, enjoying the dry, soft carpet beneath her feet and sighing with bliss that she was home, done with working for the day. Or so she thought, at least. She plopped onto her bed, laying on her back nude while staring at the ceiling thoughtfully. Was this military thing really for her? She only wanted to do it so she could be more like... him. Her childhood saviour. The Man with the Golden Eye. Raised in an orphanage, she was adopted by a loving and caring couple in their forties and wanting a child. Arra loved them. But as they left a drug store one fateful morning they were forced into a nearby alleyway by an armed robber, intent on stealing their prescription pills and clearly losing his grip on reality. It was... too late for the both of them. Her adopted father was more than willing to part with his medicine, but he knew his wife couldn't be without them and tried to reason with the man. The man was unreasonable, and it lead to the death of her adoptive parents and nearly of her as well, had it not been for the "Man with the Golden Eye". Clad all in darkness as if a shroud of shadow kept him concealed, all she could make out was his left eye, bright and gold, along with a high-calibur pistol poised at the robber, who made the mistake of trying to retaliate. Three people died that day, two of them innocent. But before Arra could thank the man, before she could ask anything of him, before she even got to see his face, he was gone. Perhaps he was not even trying to save her. Perhaps he had his own motives in mind. But either way, it didn't stop Arra from researching all she could about him... and finding zilch. She turned to a nearby picture of her adoptive parents she held onto and asked aloud "What do you think...?" A female voice was heard nearby in response "A little lopsided, but nothing to be concerned about." Eyes widening, she looked over to the source of the noise and saw a black feline in her doorway where she previously entered, greeting "Hi." This was returned by a frightened shriek. ----- Name: Sadow Yatsumaru, born John Lawrence Rhades. Age: 27 Hair: White, originally brown Eyes: Blue with trademark Hell-Hunter slitted pupils, originally hazel-green mixture Born: October 17th, 1998 Christening: March 12th, 2023 Designation: X-27 "Hunter" Rank: Freelancer Cell, Scout Corps Five Skill: Marksmanship - 5 Melee Combat - 5 Leadership - 3 Speed - 3 Strength - 4 Sadow reviewed his Hell-Hunter identification card as he waited on his contact to arrive. Funny how the United Human Alliance could weigh and value the very people defending it into numbers and graphs. "We humans sure love our graphs..." he thought to himself. His "white hair", as the card so blandly described it, was a hanging mess of bangs. Short, but long enough to cover the back of his neck and his eyes with the pointed icicles he called bangs, caging his Hell-Hunter eyes behind them. He was meaning to cut them, actually. He didn't like his hair getting too long. Obscured his vision. He moved his bangs out of his sight with his hand which proved futile as they simply returned to their original spot. Not like he could cut them on-the-spot, either. Hell-Hunter DNA was valuable, and while they were a military they were basically government property. In it for life. A fact they rarely and carefully touch upon lest Hell-Hunters get ideas, and any who do "get made into examples". Fine way to treat your people, humanity. As for Sadow himself, his stats were bullshit. He'd brought down a B-rank Daemon all on his own yet the files glossed over that like carefully-lathered gel, not to mention his severely wounding an A-rank in the field, albeit he had help. But nooo, Hell-Hunters' stats are based on their simulated training courses and aren't added to by their Field work! At least he won Freelancer because of his work, which gave him ample time to look for... her. Painful memories made his chest swell, and he clenched his teeth trying to forget about it. He didn't like to think about such things. About the battles he'd lost in the war, about the friends he couldn't save... About the accidents... Snapping him out of his walk in the past was his contact, the Daemon-snitch Cheshire "Hey bonehead, I brought the girl." Cheshire was what the Boys in the Back liked to call a "Changeling", one of those shapeshifter-types. Except the problem with Chesh was she was confined to only so many forms while in the "mid-realm", where humanity resides. She seemed, based on what Sadow noticed, to prefer a cat for mobility. Small, dark, fast, and flexible. Perfect for escaping from any who tried to harm her. "I would've picked a rabbit." Looking up at what the cat, literally, brought in, Sadow assessed the civilian: dark-skin and jet-black, straight hair along with her rather tall disposition seemed to suggest Native American descent. Her blue eyes suggests one of her parents or grandparents wasn't Native. She wore a black T-shirt with some iconic band logo on it that Sadow didn't seem to recognize along with a dark leather coat over it with the hood up in case the rain returned and a fur-lined inside. Jeans with a brown belt, boots suggest tomboyish personality. Young, probably aged around 18 to her early twenties. Recently showered due to the light smell of soap on her body , shampoo and conditioner in her hair, not that it was of any relevance. Thanks to his Hunter training, he surmised all of this in a matter of six seconds from a couple of meters away. He greeted with his trademark and simple "Yo." as he leaned against the brick alley wall of the tavern, pocketing his Hell-Hunter I.D. ----- Arra was a bit starstruck. So this was a Hell-Hunter. She'd read about them online and saw articles and other things about them on the news, but has never seen a real one in person. The government tended to only give out so much information on them for the public so they were a bit of a mystery. "The Elite Anti-Daemonic Combat Division" is what they're officially called. The term "Hell-Hunter" is just a term coined by some guy on the news after the first successful closing of a Hellgate at the hands of, oh... what was his name...? Roberto? Robson? At any rate, she studied him as he gave her a quick look down. He looked... like some sort of Anime character or something. White hair, a red Trenchcoat-looking... coat with dark leather, fingerless gloves and a dark, padded vest underneath and black knee-high combat boots. She was half-expecting him to be toting some ridiculously huge sword at his back or a Katana or something. When he finally gave his simple "Yo." greeting, she was a little surprised. For an elite military ops guy, this dude seemed... relaxed. Ridiculously so. There was a talking cat in front of him - a Daemon, as she would come to learn while throwing lamps and books at her - and he was leaning against a wall with his arms folded like "Meh, just another Tuesday to me." Kinda made her a little embarrassed at how bad she freaked out earlier, though she did apologize to the kitt- Cheshire. "So... you're a Hell-Hunter..." Sadow nodded "Mhmm... And you're Cadet Amelia Arra Sans of Kingston Academy. I'm Sadow." He offered a gloved hand to shake hers. Reluctantly, she returned the gesture. Both had a firm grip and, as they shook, he spoke "Sadow Yatsumaru. Freelancer. Scout Corps Five." She smiled awkwardly. She didn't know these ranks or anything. He continued on "Cheshire, here, reports to me that you and a certain Matt Woods are the top students in your class. Top in the Academy, even." Arra blushes humbly and scratches her head while looking away "Well, y'know..." He went on "She says you both are reliable. I need your help in coaxing a possible Daemon into revealing itself for me, which has, regrettably, wormed its way into the Academy's infrastructure somehow, be it by student, faculty... We're not sure." "Holy shit... a Daemon in the Academy? How was it able to infiltrate it?! Unless... it could change form..." Arra pondered before speaking aloud "What do you need me to do?" Before Sadow could answer, the heavily coughing Matt Woods arrived, wearing a hoodie and some dark jeans "Hey..." he greeted, coughing into a balled fist. All three members of this back alley meeting turned to face the new arrival, Arra even folding her arms, unimpressed. Sadow nodded in return, greeting simply "Yo. You must be Matt Woods." ----- Matt didn't like this plan. Because the tricky Daemon would hide it's presence or flee anytime the Hell-Hunter drew near the Academy, avoiding his senses as well as having a building full of hostages in case things went ugly, Matt and Arra had to lure it out. They were specially chosen because of their desirable traits for a Daemon; Matt was indulgent and, thus, sinful and would taste good to a Daemon. Arra was a virgin, thus her soul held value and would strengthen any Daemon who devours it. Both of them met outside the Academy then took a walk nearby in the woods. The rain poured down once more, and Arra and Matt both had their hoods up but were still getting drenched. "First time meeting a Hell-Hunter and he asks me to go to the woods to act like I'm about to get laid." complained Arra, to which Matt jokingly returned "...Acting?" At first, Arra looked a little surprised, blushing "W-Well, yes! I mean... We are acting... right?" Arra didn't like this. She wanted her first time to be with a healthy, toned guy! ...Or a toned alien guy! Not a pot-smoking drunkard like Woods... "That was a joke, Arra." He gave her a chiding smirk and she smirked back, elbowing him in the side "Fucker... Hey, you know what I just realized?" Matt gave an annoyed look. Here it comes... Arra continued with a suppressed snort "Matt Woods in da' woods!" Matt breathed a heavy sigh. That joke hurt so bad, it almost gave his Liver the "Okay" to go ahead and get Cancer. As they reached a fork in the path, Arra stopped "Wait, what the fuck are we doing? You really think this Daemon is gonna believe two schmucks are gonna just come out into the woods on a rainy-ass day to pork?" Matt shrugged "It was Shadow's plan, not mine." Arra corrected "Sadow. And is he really thinking we're just gonna wait for some Daemon to just-" She was cutoff by a young, hiss of a greeting "Hello, kiddies. Come to play with Papa Feng...?" Behind them both was a man, around their age, wearing a grey hoodie with the hood up like Matt's but having messy grey hair and wearing a wolfish grin, hungry for flesh and soul. Matt snickered "Fuck rainy days." ----- END OF CHAPTER 1 ----- Hello! Sadow-sama here. Hope you enjoyed the Chapter 1 Pilot of Tias Reae! You can discuss what you think of it, ask questions, and generally just shoot the shit in the comments below! I'll be creating Character pages as characters are introduced, as well as adding to them as things are revealed. I'd like to a give a special thanks to my girlfriend, Zexeos, for doing the art in the series (love you babe!) and to you, the reader, for taking the time to immerse yourself in my little project. If you decide to stick around, I'll promise to try not to disappoint! What to expect in the next Chapter: The first fight scene in the series (and boy is it a big one), more characters being introduced, things getting more elaborated on, and shit in general being turned upside down. Read on here: Chapter 2: The Iron Mountain